


You're a superhero? Okay.

by poisns



Series: Klaus and His Best Friend [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, Everyone Is Gay, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Beta, No Smut, Partying, Underage Drinking, ben is the best brother ever, shits wild i'll tell you that for free
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 10:39:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18737368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisns/pseuds/poisns
Summary: Klaus is sixteen and tired of being confined to his room at night. So, instead of sleeping, he smokes a joint and infiltrates a party he wasn't invited to.Friendship happens. Love (?) happens. Klaus happens.





	You're a superhero? Okay.

**Author's Note:**

> hey peoples. this is basically a one shot/fic full of young klaus' endeavours as a young and curious guy. there's probably some things i haven't checked over properly, but i figured i might as well post it instead of keeping it in my docs for ages. (i changed the age to sixteen from seventeen so i hope no one gets confused that's read this idk)
> 
> there isn't any explicit descriptions of sex or anything, i couldn't ever do that to myself LOL, so i just kept it as teen and up. tagged it just in case. drug use, because its klaus. i also enjoy coming up with different ways to describe him being high. sorry if any of you wanted ben in this; i'm saving that for another time. 
> 
> this is really just a klaus-centric fic with two original characters; i'm thinking of bringing one of them back for the heck of it because i like her so much.
> 
> anyway, enjoy.

The party was excruciatingly loud, to say the least. Klaus Hargreeves, just turned sixteen, pushed and slipped and dodged throughout the crowd of underage teenagers collated towards the entrances and exits of _whoever’s house_ that he was inside.

He hadn’t told anyone, save for Ben who had kept each and every one of the _dirty_ secrets he had been harbouring since he surpassed the age of eleven. His brother hadn’t said much, he barely looked up from the crossword he had been slaving over for hours. Klaus knew that that was all he needed out of him. A silent promise. Or confirmation, depending on how one looked at it.

Since he had drifted away from the life he had led as a kid who _didn’t_ smoke weed half-hanging out his window at three in the morning, Klaus had drawn the conclusion that he didn’t feel the slightest pang of guilt when sneaking out of The Academy to wander off to literally anywhere else than the place he despised the most. The place where his complete villain of a father loitered in the halls, watching him with his cold, emotionless eyes.

It did tend to wind a person up.

Klaus in particular.

Since Reginald Hargreeves was away -- fortunately for the children -- Klaus had no problem walking right out of The Academy through the front door. Completely unnoticed, too, not even Pogo had poked his head around a corner or over a wooden railing to begin questioning him. For that, he would be eternally grateful.

Ha ha.

So, all of which had lead up to Klaus leant against someone’s kitchen countertops, breathing heavily from the sheer heat that he had been captured in when wading through the mass of kids in the living room.

Also, the entire joint he had managed to smoke en route to his destination had warped his sense of oxygen inhalation, forcing him to think hard and long about how and when he should have been breathing just to stop him from passing out in front of everyone. Because he totally hadn’t done that before. And he most certainly hadn’t landed with the loudest _thud_ ever heard by man at Diego’s bare feet in the middle of his hardwood floor. It was never discussed after that.

There was a girl stood a few feet away from him, nursing a glass of clear liquid, which could have been water, but judging by the almost sultry look plastered onto her red face told Klaus that it was most likely vodka. Straight up vodka. She had a pair of black flared trousers on, with a black and orange tie-dye crop top, which clung to her waist with utmost endearment. She was glaring in his general direction, but something told him that she was trying to have some kind of eye-sex with another girl who was leant against the doorway to Hell -- rather, the dreaded dance vortex Klaus had been sucked into moments before --, however, the door frame girl didn’t seem as invested as the vodka girl.

Vodka girl’s eyes rolled into the back of her head as she tilted her neck, that sweet, sweet _crack_ managing to sound over the too-loud music. She faced Klaus, propping her elbow on top of the counter just for the extra support. “Hey man, looking for someone?” Heck, was she inebriated. But he was stoned to the point where the ground he was stood upon felt like he was stuck in really wet sand, so, there wasn’t room to judge.

“Maybe, I dunno… Yeah? I’m just _here_ , like,” He felt himself say, his hands flapping around stupidly. He didn’t exactly consult his brain before speaking, but who the fuck even cared? _Roll with it, baby._

“Huh, well, baby boy, you ain’t gonna find no-no one in here. This here kitchen; it’s _dry.”_ She too was waving her hands about, and Klaus found it especially funny. He giggled, mouth wide open, head back. Vodka girl snorted. “What? C’mon, don’ laugh at me. I’m completely fucked, dude.”

Klaus made a face of understanding, nodding his head far too slowly, just to savour the incredible effect it had on his entire brain. “Why are you hanging back here?” He asked. Judging -- as best as he possibly could -- by the entire situation, Klaus guessed that she had some sort of introvert personality, but still liked to socialise. That, and she liked the shoe polish taste of vodka so much that she had already had several small glasses of the stuff, meaning that she wanted to get as drunk as possible so she could avoid the whole awkward conversation-making schtick that many non-socialisers whipped out at these events.

Or maybe she just really liked hanging back and watching people fall over each other from grinding and gyrating too aggressively, a smug grin plastered onto her face.

“Just because, cutie,” She said, flashing a too-cute smile that showed the biggest dimples Klaus had ever seen. He felt the urge to reach forward and stick his fingers into them, just to see how far they’d go. Maybe her dimples were like endless pits, and she hid things inside of them, or _maybe-_

“Hey, guyliner, quit poking around my dimps’. VIP’s only.”

Since when did his hands develop minds of their own? “Sorry,” He said, lips turning down in the corners, only to wipe the frown off of his face, replacing the expression with something a lot lighter. “You know, has anyone ever, _ever,_ told you that you are _very_ beautiful? You remind me of some kind of gothic-warrior-princess, with that long black hair. Very pretty indeed,” Klaus toyed with the ends of her curled hair, completely and utterly mesmerised by what was in front of him. Vodka girl’s mouth formed an ‘o’, her eyes blown wide, taken aback in the best way possible.

“Wh-wow, that is so nice of you, crop-top! You know what?” She leaned close towards Klaus, hands braced against his chest. “My night has just turned great. It wasn’t before, but now it is. Because of that compliment.” She began clapping but curtly leaned back in to grab the sides of his face. Her long, red nails scraped his skin slightly as she gripped onto him. “What’s your name? I don’t think it’s guyliner or crop-top. Or cutie, although, that would be very fitting for you.”

Despite Klaus’ head feeling like it was detached from his body, and instead was tied to a string like a balloon, he felt like he was paying almost all of his attention to the conversation. Either that he was particularly attentive, for some reason, or he was subconsciously threatened by her vice grip on his entire face.

 _“I,_ is Klaus.” He managed to get out. Her grin was far too big, and it made Klaus giggle like a complete creep under his breath. She didn’t seem to care, though.

“Okie Dokie, _Klaus,_ I propose a challenge for you.”

_Shit. a challenge? Why? I mean, I’m obviously going to agree since I don’t think I can programme my mind to shake my head no..._

“If you find someone at this party to get with, I shall crown you as the win-winner of the night,” she hiccupped, stumbling slightly to the left when she lifted her fist into the air. “Oh, and I need proof. Like, evidence. A hickey, or… or like, a _stain-”_

“ _Oh,_ Christ, _yes_ , alright. Evidence,” Klaus waved his hand around dismissively, “What will be won, witch lady?”

“If you succeed,” She ran her hands up and down her top half with fake seduction. Klaus made a face at that, retracting his chin into his neck, “You can have my top.” That time, his expression was pure sassy exasperation, and vodka girl giggled, nodding wildly. “Is that a fair prize, honey-bun?

“Tis’ fair, you delightful little goth.”

“Okay! Well, I’ll be around,” she gestured vaguely to nothing in particular, “come and find me when you’ve succeeded-ed.” Klaus giggled at her total drunkenness.

She leaned forward, grabbing his face once more, and planted a wet kiss directly onto his far-too-dry lips. “I believe in you, Klaus. I’m Shelley, by the way!” she let go and sauntered off towards the back door where a couple of kids were chatting and holding cups.

Then she was gone.

Klaus was _way_ too high to care about the large smear of Shelley’s dark red lipstick on his mouth. Instead, he scrambled his way over to the notorious flashing room to take part in the ridiculous challenge set by a girl he had met five minutes prior.

 

\--

 

What had _felt_ like ten minutes had passed since Klaus had been assigned what felt like more of a task than a challenge by the mysterious Shelley to hunt down a mate like a wild animal. He wasn’t entirely sure if he could actually achieve anything with the big cloud of weed-induced fog that sat heavily inside of his head. To be totally honest, he could have really done without agreeing to the girl; he wasn’t entirely sure that he’d be obtaining a new top, and even if he did, what the fuck would she be wearing? He didn’t even think about it at the time. It was October and _freezing_. Plus, he wasn’t exactly staring at her chest, per se, but he was almost sure that she wasn’t even wearing a bra.

_Should I just leave? Wait- no, no, c'mon, Klaus. You just got here, buddy._

“Ha ha, okay, _fine,_ if you say so,” Klaus said, a lot more out loud than he would have intended, whilst waving his hand dismissively, and walking with purpose to the room he least wanted to enter just for the sake of leaving with his exposed toes still attached to his feet. He wasn’t entirely sure when he had taken off his shoes, and where they even were, but when Klaus’ hazy eyes met those of a boy wearing a blue sleeveless turtleneck, the whereabouts of his shoes no longer concerned him. “Oh, _man_.”

The boy who had fell victim to Klaus’ stare was flailing his limbs around to simulate some form of dance as he made direct eye contact with him. Klaus now wore a suggestive expression on his face, trying to send some sort of message to the boy through his questionable dance moves. Whatever he was doing - or at least trying to do - had been successful, and the boy was wading through the sea of teenagers to meet Klaus at the other end of the room.

“Hey,” the boy spoke, blinking slowly, seemingly matching Klaus’ blinking speed. It was unclear to say whether the slow blinking was because Klaus was incredibly infatuated by the sheer sight of the boy now stood in front of him, or the hellishly bright lights flashing on a continuous red-blue-green-yellow loop. “Anyone in there?”

Klaus snapped out of his daydream, letting a sheepish smile graze his lips. “Uh, sorry. Hey, I’m Klaus.” He held out his hand out for a handshake but felt his stomach do several thousand somersaults when the boy gently grasped his hand and pressed a slow, wet kiss to the back of it instead.

“Dylan. You, know, Klaus, you’re real pretty.” The boy, now Dylan, said. He was still holding onto Klaus’ hand, which was _definitely_ sweating, but he didn’t really care since the guy standing in front of him was one of the most beautiful human beings Klaus had had the pleasure of laying his eyes upon.

Klaus winced internally at the compliment he so wanted to believe, but he didn’t want to unleash his emotional trauma onto a boy he had quite literally met thirty seconds ago, so he refrained. “I could say the same about you, Dylan, but _oh man,_ you’re so much more than just pretty.”

_Did I really say that? Well, I was thinking it, but then again, words always end up slipping out when I don’t want them too when that devil named Mary-Jane is sitting on my shoulder…_

Klaus’ comment had worked wonders on Dylan. Despite the garish lights, he could see the ghost of a blush spread across his cheeks, amongst the many freckles on his face. Klaus truly believed Dylan had been sent down from Heaven just for him on that night.

_Ugh, how disgustingly cheesy of me._

Klaus was rendered speechless for a moment or two (he had definitely zoned out on Dylan for a solid twenty seconds, at his own expense, of course. He wanted to smoke the joint.), completely lost in the beauty that Dylan beheld. The boy didn’t even to seem to mind, however, and he just stared right back, clearly holding back a laugh from how wide Klaus’ mouth was hanging open.

“Say, Klaus, you wanna go somewhere that isn’t this crazy?” Dylan asked, now gripping firmly onto Klaus’ left hand, as well as rubbing the pads of his fingers over his knuckles. Klaus felt like he could just melt.

“Huh,” Klaus started, faking a questionable expression as he brought his right hand up to his face and scratched his chin, “what exactly are you asking, Dylan?”

The boy rolled his eyes but clearly found the humour in Klaus’ question. “What I’m asking, _baby boy_ , is; wanna take this upstairs?”

Klaus could have flooded his pants right then and there.

The thickness that lurked in the other boys' voice did _something_ to Klaus, either it was the way he let the phrase _baby boy_ slip past his lips without even a smirk, or maybe how his eyes were so full of want and _need_ that Klaus could feel the tense of Dylan’s muscles without even touching him.

“Keep calling me _baby boy,_ and I won’t even care where we take this.”

 

\--

 

Half an hour had passed since Klaus had giddily followed the most beautiful boy in the world up the stairs of some strangers house, and into the closest bedroom, fumbling for the lock like a drunk idiot. They had done some _things,_ nothing Klaus hadn’t done before, however. Dylan was, surprisingly, very gentle, despite the insane look of lust that heavily clouded his blue eyes. Klaus almost felt frail when being touched by Dylan’s hands.

Now, they were both laid atop some poor, unfortunate soul’s bed, hands still all over each other. Allison’s top was long gone, as well as his leather pants that hadn’t really stayed on very long either. _Restrictive, yet sexy,_ Klaus had branded them as. Ben had just called them ugly.

“Jesus, Klaus, you are something else,” Dylan murmured, his tone heavy. He had Klaus’ face cradled in his hands as if he was a wounded butterfly, afraid that if he made a sudden movement, Klaus would disintegrate and disappear between his fingers.

Klaus felt the most wanted, at that moment.

It was quiet for a minute, only the sound of voices and the music still going strong at half eleven at night. Klaus rubbed the spot on his neck where Dylan had latched his mouth onto just minutes before, leaving the skin feeling tender to the touch. It wasn’t _shit_ compared to the art that Klaus had sucked onto the other boy however; he didn’t think fifteen (give or take) hickeys would be very forgiving.

It came to Klaus’ attention that the high feeling he so desperately craved day in and day out was starting to wear off fast. Maybe the tiny bag of crappy weed that he found lying beside the dumpster in the alley next to The Academy was actually just a really shit coincidence. He was convinced an angel had finally listened to his prayers and gifted him with some _really good stuff_. Or maybe he had sweat the entirety of it through his pores in the last thirty-five minutes. Who knew?

_Not me. Ha ha ha._

Oh, and _shit_ . The competition. Or rather, the dumb game that now made Klaus feel ever so terrible due to the nature of it. He actually felt something when he looked at Dylan. Hell, he felt _something_ when the guy was grasping at his hip bones and licking all over Klaus like a dripping popsicle. He didn’t mind it, though. He was grateful that someone wanted to put their hands on him, and look into his eyes, and hold his hand. Even if it was someone he hardly knew. It grounded him to the point where he could _almost_ see the good in himself. He thought about it a lot, and it felt sort of hopeless that he relied on human contact, particularly the sexual kind, to make him feel like he was worth something. Maybe he could blame it on the restraints that were put in place by his Dad. Maybe the only person he could blame was himself. He couldn’t figure it out. And at that moment, he didn’t really want to, because Dylan was softly brushing Klaus’ jaw with his fingers once more.

“Oh, Dylan. You… you really are magnificent. Do you get that a lot? Magnificent? Or what about ‘absolutely wonderful’?” Klaus drawled lowly, definitely feeling a little bit hot with all the skin-to-skin contact he had been experiencing. Dylan jutted out his bottom lip and looked into Klaus’ eyes again.

“Not really. You do though, right?” He smirked.

_I do, but I’ve never believed it, you beautiful, beautiful boy. But I won’t tell you that much._

“Oh, you know it. That’s why you’ve got a smirk on those pretty lips of yours, hey?” He leaned into the other boy and kissed him as gently as he could. Fuck, did it feel good. Good to be liked. Good to be wanted. Good to be touched. So, so good. Klaus pulled away for the sole purpose of taking a good look at the other boy’s face, then going back for another kiss, but their lips didn’t quite meet, because Dylan was pulling back further than Klaus did with furrowed brows.

“ _Wait…_ wait a second… I know you from somewhere…”

 _No, no, please, for the love of_ God, _no…_

“You’re Number Two from The Umbrella Academy.”

Klaus’ heart felt like it had shattered and the pieces were plummetting to the bottom of his stomach like paperweights. Couldn’t he just have had this one? Just one person who didn’t actually know who he was? His father was convinced that the domino masks were entirely effective in being the only thing protecting their entire face from the world. Apparently, he was wrong, as always.

“Uh, Number _Four,_ actually,” He sighed, pressing his lips into a tight line, right corner curling up ever so slightly. Dylan rolled his eyes playfully and pushed himself up onto one elbow.

“Same difference,” the boy was quiet for a moment, seemingly deep in thought. Klaus knew what he was going to say, he just _knew-_

“Are there, like, ghosts in here? Because that would be pretty damn awesome if there were. I’m not exactly scared of them, I’m more interested than I am scared-”

“No, uh, not right _now-”_

“Another thing, what’s Number One like? How old was he when he started looking ripped-”

“Let me, uh, stop you there, Dylan,” Klaus interrupted the other boy, laughing nervously, all whilst resisting the urge to cry like a baby right then and there out of frustration. “I’m not really meant to be even talking about this with anyone other than my family, but the last thing I want when I’m having a moment with somebody is to hear about being Number Four _.”_

Dylan’s now vacant expression told Klaus everything. He sighed, pushing himself off of the bed and standing over by the dresser. “Being me is hard. It’s hard, being me. You get that?”

“How can it be hard being you, though? You live in a mansion, you have five _(six, actually),_ awesome superhero siblings, and your dad is super rich. I mean, I’d kill to be where you are right now, Klaus.”

It hurt. It really did. To think that he had really been on the brink of happiness, just _once_ in his miserable life. Klaus was so sure that after the party was over, Dylan would give him his address before kissing him goodbye, and they would grow to love each other. He really did think that. It was stupid, though. Nothing ever ended like that; perfect. Not for Klaus, anyway. He needed to leave. He needed to be in his bed or sitting in silence with Ben as his brother read, or painting Allison’s nails whilst talking about the little pop-culture they knew about. Hell, he’d even prefer to be in the company of Luther, when he’d pester him over and over until he got a smile out of him. Anywhere but with Dylan in a stranger’s bedroom, which had begun to feel hot and confined.

Klaus grabbed his top and pulled it over his head hastily, as well as putting his pants back on so fast that he almost tripped up. “Klaus? What are you doing?”

“I have to go,” he gestured to the pink watch on his wrist vaguely, “I don’t need my mother finding out I’m not actually in my bedroom.” _You liar. But anything to avoid confrontation, right?_

“Really? Oh, alright,” he glanced around the room, and turned to look at Klaus with a smirk on his lips, “will I be seeing you again?”

Oh, how Klaus wanted to say yes. He wanted to _scream_ the word and run away into the night with a boy he’d barely known for an hour. He wanted to grab him by the neck and kiss him all over until his lips were sore. But he also wanted to protect Dylan, as he wanted to protect himself. But Dylan knew who Klaus really was. He knew that he smoked weed and that he liked boys, and he knew that he’d fall way too hard way too easily. If people on the outside found out about those things, Klaus would be destroyed. His father would strip him of all his securities and turn him into a shell of himself, starting back at square one. He didn’t want someone else to have to see him like that, as well as the selfishness inside of him not wanting to share any more of his life with someone who only seemed to care about Number Four, not Klaus.

“No. I’m sorry… no.”

And with that, Klaus left the prettiest boy he’d ever seen laying atop a strangers bed, not bothering to meet the other’s glare.

 

\--

 

Klaus had only remembered Shelley when he was halfway out the door, newly acquired shoes in hand. He swore and turned back around, apologising yet again to the pair of teenagers making out against the coat rack. Fortunately, she was right where she was at the beginning of the night, but this time she seemed a lot more put together, and a lot less _fucked._

“Hey, little witch,” Klaus said. She turned around, and her eyes widened as her whole face lit up.

“Klaus! Were you successful?” She smirked, eyelashes fluttering. Klaus puffed up his cheeks and nodded, pointing his finger to his neck where the hickeys had started to darken. She raised her brows and nodded, impressed, and took his hand, inspecting his poorly painted fingernails. “Good, good. Who were they?”

In all honesty, he didn’t want to talk about it. Thinking about the whole experience made his stomach turn, but Shelley seemed incredibly sweet so he couldn’t bear to disappoint her.

“This guy called Dylan. Don’t think I’ll see him again though.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“He was too interested in my life. That shit stays between I and _only_ I.”

Shelley wasn’t buying it. The look she was giving him was a carbon copy of the look that would be plastered onto Ben’s face after Klaus said literally anything. He sighed.

“Fine. I really like him. Well, liked.” Klaus looked around to see if anyone was watching, which no one was, so he leaned closer to her, “If I tell you what I’m about to tell you, you have to swear on your beautiful clear skin that you won’t say a word.”

Shelley retracted her chin and widened her eyes, but let out a nervous laugh to compensate. “Shoot, Klausy.”

“Have you heard of the Umbrella Academy?”

She nodded.

“Great. I’m in it.”

“Neat,” Shelley looked down as she ran her fingers over his knuckles, but looked up to meet his eyes, “I thought you were going to tell me that you were a young offender running from the law or something. Hm. So, what, he was flooding his panties over the idea of you being a superhero? Gross.” She dropped his hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Klaus stared at her, consumed with the relief of the answer she had given him. “Is that all you’re going to say?” He felt as if he was expecting something else, a string of questions, maybe? But nothing. Thank God, she said _nothing_.

“Yeah? What, you want me to rapid-fire questions about your secret superhero life? No thanks, I’m far more interested in the price of eggs,” she picked at her nail nonchalantly before whipping her head up to look at him.

“You wanna get out of here? I’m sweating. Oh, and forget about the shirt thing; I completely forgot I wasn’t wearing a bra. I’m not going tits free tonight.”

Klaus snickered.

_I like her._

**Author's Note:**

> welp, there was that. did you guys like shelley? i do. also, i kinda wanted dylan to come off as a really cute nice boy at the start but then he turns out to be totally uninterested in klaus after he finds out about him being number four. cos people are actually like that, believe it or not.
> 
> something to look out for, the bit about klaus passing out at diego's feet. i literally found it so funny that i wrote an entire fic about it when i finished this one. so go read that, because i'm gonna post it immediately after. timeline wise, this fic happens in amongst some of the fuckery in the last part of the other one. 
> 
> happy trails, friends. do leave a comment if you wish.


End file.
